Surprising Bro.
Joe Glenda Makes It 3 In A Row
More often than not, the phone I answer at home is one of the ones
that doesn’t display the I.D. of the caller. In fact we only have one
phone with the caller I.D. feature, and while it is portable, it normally
stays docked in the kitchen. Thus, when I answered a call the other night
in my living room, I had no idea who the caller was until she identified
herself.
"This is Glenda Corley," the caller responded to my hello. "Is your adorable,
sweet wife, there?"
"I’m sorry," I replied, "you obviously have the wrong
number."
After a short giggle, Glenda continued, "Well then, is your wife at
home."
I explained that Barbara had gone to Wal Mart to pick up something and would
be back shortly.
"You don’t know if Habitat is having a workday next Saturday do you?"
she asked, concerning April 16th.
"I know they usually do, but I really don’t know for sure. You girls
must be up to something, like maybe a surprise birthday party for Brother
Joe?" I quizzed, having heard Barbara mention Glenda’s scheme
earlier.
"Something like that," she stated. "If you don’t mind, have Barbara
give me a call when she gets home."
The Corleys are Methodists, Brother Joe Steen is Catholic, and we’re
Baptists, but we’re one family in Christ, one family in Habitat for
Humanity, one family in the brotherhood of man, and on top of all of that,
we actually like each other, which is more than a lot of families by birth
can say.
The Corleys became friends with Brother Joe through their volunteerism with
Habitat for Humanity. Brother Joe has been the construction supervisor for
Habitat since being sent to Pontotoc by the Glenmary Home Missioners several
years ago. Barbara and I became friends with the both the Corleys and Brother
Joe through association with Habitat for Humanity and the Interfaith Storm
Relief Alliance.
Glenda Corley is one of the most versatile and prolific cooks I’ve run
across. She enjoys cooking for her family and often invites Brother Joe and
his roommate, Father Gerald "Pete" Peterson over for dinner. Glenda and Brother
Joe, enjoy ribbing each other in a good-natured way. So, whenever the two
are together the conversation is lively, or should I say spirited?
Barbara and Glenda discussed their plans to surprise Brother Joe at the job
site on Saturday. They reasoned he wouldn’t expect a thing when folks
starting showing up bringing in food, because it’s common practice for
someone to feed volunteers a noon meal.
Barbara and I arrived at the job site shortly before noon. I carried a digital
camera to give the impression Barbara had brought me along to make a few
pictures of the work crew or to document the progress on the house. Brother
Ken Corley and Bill Jackson were among the volunteers working on the house.
John Grant was there, too. Brother Joe was on a ladder around back helping
with the vinyl siding. Not even when Wadelo and Mary Jane Waldrop showed
up was there reason for Brother Joe to suspect anything, as they are notable
in their varied, volunteer efforts.
The way Barbara and Glenda had it figured, Brother Joe would have given up
on being treated to a birthday party, and even if he had expected one, it’s
logical he would have expected something closer to his birthday, which was
the second of April. However, he had been in Chicago for a couple of weeks,
visiting his sister, and didn’t return to Pontotoc until April
7th.
I doubt Brother Joe figured out what was taking place, until he saw the birthday
cake with his name on it. He later told us he wondered why so many folks
were bringing food. Actually, Glenda brought all the food in her car. The
rest of us just helped unload it.
Glenda doesn't know how to do something on a small scale. In addition to
birthday cake there were two meats, barbecue pork and Buffalo wings, several
vegetables including mashed potatoes, kidney beans, cooked-down green beans,
and baby carrots, plus cornbread muffins and three loaves of homemade bread,
a congealed salad and a fruit salad. Beverage choices were lemonade, and
both sweet and unsweetened tea.
Brother Ken is accustomed to such a spread, and shared, "I could have stayed
at home and had this to eat."
Before Father Pete blessed the food, someone switched on an animated birthday
cake that rhythmically compressed and expanded to create the illusion of
a dancing cake while playing the tune to Happy Birthday. Following a good
laugh, everyone sang Happy Birthday to Brother Joe.
After the meal Barbara and Glenda presented Bro. Joe with birthday cards
and gag gifts. One card announced "Something for the Handyman," and inside
it was a Band-Aid. Joe is not exactly a computer geek, barely able to send
and receive email, so Barbara gave him a mouse pad and a toy computer mouse
that sings and spins erratically when touched. Glenda's card boasted of a
presentation tool more powerful than Power Point and with respect to computers,
crash proof. Taped inside was a genuine, pocket-sized, telescoping pointer.
In the aftermath of good food, good fellowship, and the birthday celebration
of a good friend, Barbara wondered, "Aren't you supposed to get wiser as
you get older?"
"I'd say that's generally true, why?"
"Well, this makes three years in a row Glenda has pulled off a surprise birthday
for Brother Joe."
I figure Brother Joe is wiser than all of us, and having stumbled upon a
good thing, he's not about to spoil it by not being surprised.
Fishing With
Joel Enjoyable And Fun
About a month ago, I thought I should take a few days off work, simply because
I could. I have worked for SUPERVALU long enough to qualify for five weeks
of vacation. While I like to take a full week at Thanksgiving and at Christmas,
I try to parcel out the rest to accommodate an occasional fishing trip or
a few yard days getting the placed spruced up for the annual backyard party
in July. Though I had considered taking off three days, I finally decided
a Friday would be sufficient and would provide a nice three-day weekend.
The weather was pleasant enough to put me in a mood to go fishing. Joel Hale
allows me to keep my boat on his lake, year-round. I almost called Joel Hale
Thursday night to see if he was interested in fishing for a couple of hours
on Friday but decided it might be after his bedtime and postponed the call
until Friday morning.
Joel is retired from the Postal Service and enjoys golfing, hunting, and
fishing. He also likes to "tend" his lake, raising the water level in the
spring after drawing it down in the winter to help control vegetation. Joel
also enjoys introducing new fish to his lake and has hybrid varieties of
both bream and bass. I’m not sure why he added black crappie to the
small lake (approximately 10 acres), as that species can easily overpopulate
under favorable conditions. However, crappie are easily caught and are as
tasty as bream.
Joel has read enough concerning fish management to know the importance of
having large numbers of sizeable predator fish to help control bream and
crappie. That’s why he asks folks who fish his lake to return all the
bass that weigh two and one-half pounds or more. And, if Joel is caught up
on fish management, he’s likely to be working on physical improvements
to the lake, such as a new emergency spillway or a new access road. I used
to think having a house in the country with a lake would be like heaven on
earth, but seeing all the tending that Joel does has convinced me it’s
far better to have a friend who owns a lake than having a lake to maintain.
"Yeah, come on out," Joel stated, when I phoned him Friday morning. "We’ll
go catch a few."
What might sound like boasting to some isn’t, because a fisherman who
can’t catch fish at Joel’s lake is not much of a fisherman. I
don’t recall ever having fished his lake and not caught any fish, and
whether the catch was great or small, I’ve always enjoyed myself.
Arriving at Joel’s house, he directed me where to park my car and said,
"Put your gear in the back of my truck. We’ll drive it down to the lake."
Though the lake was visible from the hillside that anchors Joel’s house,
I much preferred riding to walking.
"I’m gonna take you in a different way," Joel stated, as we pulled through
a gap that was unfamiliar to me.
Of the last three trips to Joel’s lake, I’ve gone in a different
way each time.
"I had this cut last year when they had the 'dozer out here working on my
spillway," Joel shared. "It comes out at the upper end of the lake."
About then, I saw that our dirt road led down a heavily rutted hill.
"If it rains, we can’t get out this way," Joel assured.
Actually, I wasn’t sure we’d make it back up the hill even if it
didn’t rain, but I knew Joel had more than one exit route, and I
wasn’t worried about our getting out. We drove to the north end of the
levee where two boats sat high and dry.
"Bring your stuff and put it in ‘our’ boat," Joel chuckled as he
emphasized the word, our.
I don’t know what my boat, excuse me - our boat, weighs, but for an
aluminum boat, it’s quite heavy and hard for one man to manage alone,
which is probably why Joel uses the smaller boat when he’s by himself.
After a little straining and grunting, we pushed ourselves off the levee
and were soon fishing. For the next three hours we rowed around the lake,
catching and releasing most fish, but keeping all the crappie and bream that
we caught. I had not gone fishing with the intent of taking fish home with
me, as I had some already in the freezer, but I knew a fresh mess of crappie
and bream would make a good evening meal. In fact, I failed to take a fish
stringer, but Joel had one that easily held the eight or nine fish we kept.
Joel filled me in on his success in controlling the turtles in his lake and
how his biggest problem now is an otter that he can’t seem to get a
decent shot at, when he’s toting his rifle.
"That otter’s eating a lot of fish," he stated.
"By the way," Joel offered, "you mentioned in your newsletter that you
didn’t know what type of tree it was that you and Jim thought had such
pretty leaves last fall…that’s it over there. It’s a beech."
There were other things that we talked about that afternoon, but some subjects
are best left unreported and others, while worthy of space in this newsletter,
wouldn’t make a significant contribution to the average reader’s
enjoyment. Yet, it’s important to note that two friends spent a few
hours enjoying the beauty of their surroundings, while participating in two
of the most pleasurable occasions given unto man, sustaining a friendship
and fishing.
It is also noteworthy to mention the fish were prepared that evening and
were sufficient to feed my family and still have some leftovers. Plus, they
were delicious.
Bodock Beau
Laughing With Beau
Men may or may not be intellectually superior to women, but I'm not going
to tell anyone if we are. My advice to men is to avoid talking about women
and risk saying something that labels us as stupid. See anecdotal examples
one and two below:
Things Not To Say During Childbirth....
-
Gosh, you're lucky. I sure wish men could experience the miracle of childbirth.
-
Do you think the baby will come before Monday Night Football starts?
-
I hope you're ready. The Glamour Shot photographer will be here in fifteen
minutes.
-
If you think this hurts, I should tell you about the time I twisted my ankle
playing basketball.
-
That was the kids on the phone. Did you have anything planned for dinner?
-
When you lay on your back, you look like a python that swallowed a wild boar.
-
You don't need an epidural. Just relax and enjoy the moment.
-
This whole experience kind of reminds me of an episode from I Love Lucy.
-
Oops! Which cord was I supposed to cut?
-
Stop your swearing and just breathe. Remember what we learned in Lamaze class!
HEE HEE HOO HOO. You're not using the right words.
-
Your stomach still looks like there's another one in
there.
Men's Thoughts On Women
She has an uncanny way of standing between me and the television screen.
Bases loaded, two strikes, three balls. The crowd goes wild, the pitch flies,
and all I can see is her butt. - Howard, Dodge City, Kan.
She was furious when I got up early once and made her breakfast. Called me
controlling. How dare I decide that she would eat breakfast, let alone what
she'd have? - Ted, Wexford, Pa.
What's mine is hers. I buy her negligees; she sleeps in my T-shirts. When
she's cold she wears my wool socks to bed, never her own. She steals my half-used
razors; new ones are too sharp. She even wears my boxers. I'm tempted to
switch to briefs just to see what she'd do. - Dave, Martha's Vineyard, Mass.
You can hear her eat soup from the next room. - Bruce, Bridgewater, N.J.
My wife thinks everyone should be a vegetarian. During meals, she asks people
how they can eat dead cows, or if they know that their pork chops used to
be smarter than their dogs. - Miles, Shreveport, La.
Every so often, BOOM, she's a brunette. Or I come home to a redhead. Actually,
I have no idea what her natural color is. - Cary, Seattle
She'll brush her teeth but she won't go to the dentist. She says she's not
afraid of the pain, she just doesn't want to put herself in the hands of
any fellow who'd choose to be a dentist. - Terence, Gary, Ind.
She's stopped shaving her legs. She says that now people will know she's
a natural blonde. - Ned, Tucson, Ariz.
She takes her half of the bed out of the middle. - Robin, Gladwyne, Pa.
Have you ever seen a woman with green crust and slime smeared over her face,
dark holes for her nostrils? Do you think you'd be able to sleep at night,
knowing that creature is next to you? - Arthur, Cedar City, Utah
My wife's allergic to everything. Her nose is chronically stuffed. If I kissed
her on the mouth, she'd suffocate. - Bryan, Toledo, Ohio
She takes those soaps too seriously. I'll come home and find her in tears
because some character died. Or upset that some nonexistent guy's having
a fictional affair. - Archie, St. Louis
She will not shop at discount stores or sales. She thinks they're crowded
and plebian. She doesn't even look at the reduced rack, other than, perhaps,
for gifts for my mother. - Conrad, Wilmington, Del.
It annoys her that our children look like me. - James, New Orleans
Counting my wife and our teenage girls, that's four women. Somebody's always
got PMS. - Everett, Little Rock, Ark.
With five kids, I don't have time to complain about my wife. I don't have
time to notice her. - Bob, Charleston, W.Va.
Sticky Decision
A woman went to the post office to buy stamps. The clerk asked her what
denomination she wanted.
"My goodness—when did you start this?" the woman exclaimed. "Well…give
me 20 Methodist and 20 Presbyterian."
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